


bury a friend

by rosytonics



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: (kind of), (not really) - Freeform, But I'm still very sad about it, Emperor Stupid used Emperor Time for too long and now time is running out, Even though it's my fault, Kurapika deserves a good sendoff, M/M, Nonbinary Kurapika (Hunter X Hunter), Other, Post-Canon, Terminal Illnesses, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 04:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18189794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosytonics/pseuds/rosytonics
Summary: “Is that blood?”“No,” Kurapika replies firmly, fist clenching tighter.Leorio grabs their hand. “Bullshit.”(The effects of Emperor Time finally take their toll.)





	bury a friend

**Author's Note:**

> i jumped into this fandom with a very happy leopika fic, and now i'm posting the saddest one i'll probably ever write. sorry, folks (｡•́︿•̀｡) not to worry, though! i'm working on a very happy multi-chapter fic to make up for it! 
> 
> this fic was requested by my dear friend murphy, who sent the prompt "is that blood?", so you can't blame me for this EXCLUSIVELY. however, i'm still willing to pay all of you for emotional distress if you decide to sue me. 
> 
> important trigger warnings: emetephobia/vomiting, death, and terminal illness-ish. there's no particular illness, just gradual organ failure, but it's an important trigger to tag. although this is really a rough go, i promise that it's a peaceful, loving death. i wouldn't give a favorite character anything less. 
> 
> feel free to yell at me in the comments, or on my tumblr @berryjpg, where i'm still taking prompts and requests!

It starts with a cough.

 

It starts with a cough, and they already know what it is. 

 

It’s movie night, and they’re about twenty minutes into an animated robot film that Killua picked out. Kurapika’s stomach shudders as something eight-legged and raspy crawls out of their throat. Their eyebrows wrinkle as they cough into their palm, eyes going wide when they realize that their hand is wet. 

 

They curl their fingers into a tight fist.

 

Kurapika doesn’t have to open their hand to know that it’ll be red. They just set their fist on their thigh and wait for an appropriate time to get up. They’re tucked under Leorio’s arm, feet pressed against his thigh, cheek resting in the crook of his elbow. He seems half-interested in the movie, and they don’t want to distract him. 

 

As if on cue, he becomes distracted. His fingers drift through Kurapika’s hair.

 

“You okay?” he asks, before sitting up and peering closer. He immediately turns and grasps Kurapika’s chin. Usually, they love when he holds their face, but not like this--not with his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Hey, look at me…” Leorio’s thumb brushes against the corner of their mouth. He moves jerkily, like someone’s tightened the bolts keeping him together a little too much. His voice drops to a shaky whisper. There’s no need to worry the kids. “Is that blood?” 

 

“No,” Kurapika replies firmly, fist clenching tighter. 

 

Leorio grabs their hand. “Bullshit.” He wiggles a finger between theirs and tries to loosen their fist. “Show me,” he hisses, barely audible over the movie’s zooming lasers and sudden explosions. 

 

Something has changed in these past few years. 

 

Kurapika suddenly finds themselves unable to deny him anything. 

 

They slowly open their fist and clench their teeth at what they see; the blood pools in their palm, slimy with mucus and bubbling around the edges. They never did get used to having blood on them--it still feels too hot, sticky, and slimy. It’s…

 

Kurapika shudders. 

 

Leorio rubs his thumb over their wrist, subtly checking their pulse. His body curls around them, blocking the kids’ view. They’re not paying attention anyway.

“Kurapika”-- 

 

“Let go of me,” they whisper through gritted teeth, pulling their arm from his grip. He immediately lunges forward to grab them again. “ _ Let go of me.” _ It’s not a warning, it’s a threat. Their guts start writhing, squirming and scuttling around like snakes inside of them. Something hot and sour rises in the back of their throat, rapidly shooting up towards their mouth. And he’s not letting  _ go _ . Kurapika’s arm shakes as they try to squirm out of Leorio’s grip.  _ No, no, no _ … “I’m going to be sick,” they whisper, eyes wide and stunned. 

 

Leorio lets go, and Kurapika dashes for the bathroom. 

 

They only make it to the sink, hands gripping onto the edges as they empty their stomach with shaky legs. It’s unclear how long they throw up, or how many times. It’s a lot, and every moment of it is acidic, metallic, and terrible. Blood and chunks of this and that splash into the bowl over and over, sloshing around and coating the white porcelain with a thin, red film. 

 

They knew this was coming. 

 

They’d just hoped it wouldn’t be this soon. 

 

Kurapika spits, wipes their mouth. It’s over, for now. But it’ll come back. They begin to run the faucet, looking away as everything swirls down the drain. They catch their reflection, and it’s not pretty: hair disheveled, teeth and lips stained scarlet, eyes accompanied by dark, heavy bags. They’re sweating, and they use their sleeve to frantically blot some of it away. 

 

They can’t let anyone see them like this.

 

Kurapika brushes their teeth, hard, and then hops in the shower. 

 

As the hot water runs in rivulets down their body, they think. They think so hard that their head hurts. They  _ plan _ , and they  _ wonder _ . How much time do they have left? How much of this is in their control? The worst question, the one that stabs at their heart like a pointed rosary...how will they tell the people they love about this? Kurapika made their vow with only those they’d lost in mind, but what about the people who are going to lose  _ them _ ? 

 

How do you tell someone that you’re dying, and that it’s your own fault? 

 

Kurapika’s halfway through drying their hair when Leorio knocks on the door. 

 

“Hey. Are you okay? I heard the shower running, so I’m guessing you’re feeling a little better.” 

 

Their hand clenches around the towel. This is going to kill him. They’re the one dying, but it’s going to  _ kill  _ him. They clear their throat. “Yes, I’m fine,” they call back, strained. He’s got to know that it’s a lie. Lying to a doctor about the fact that you’ve begun to shuffle off this mortal coil probably is’t a good look, and he’s not going to believe it, but it might bring peace for now. 

 

There’s a pause. 

 

Leorio sighs behind the door. “Okay. I’ll, uh. I’ll make you some tea.” His footsteps grow quieter and quieter until they cease completely, leaving Kurapika alone in the silence. 

 

Sighing, they sink down to the floor. 

 

…

 

Leorio doesn’t bring up the blood for a few days, and Kurapika is thankful for that. It gives them time to think. 

 

_ Time _ . 

 

Every clock seems to stare at them as they pass by, and they try not to look. They’ve become an hourglass with too big an opening, and the sand is  _ streaming  _ out of them. It could be months if they’re lucky, but luck has never been their greatest strength. As the week carries on, they try not to distance themselves from their friends, their  _ family _ . 

 

They still play chess with Killua, and they still refuse to let him win. Just because they feel guilty about what’s to come doesn’t mean they should go easy on him. 

 

It becomes apparent to Kurapika that they don’t want this to change anything. They don’t want everyone bursting into tears whenever they look at them, or wearing themselves down in an attempt to make every last moment count. They don’t know how much time they have left, so why make everyone worry? 

 

So Kurapika carries on as normal, sometimes coughing into a red handkerchief and sometimes throwing up in the middle night, hiding their illness in the dark. They still take long walks in the park with Gon, and take Alluka shopping. They still watch movies on the couch. 

 

They still lay next to Leorio at night, too tired for sex but unable to sleep without his touch. They lie in his arms, and his body becomes a boat on the roaring sea of uncertainty; he’s the only thing keeping them afloat. And it’s nice like that, for a couple of days. 

 

Then, the headaches start. Horrible, grating migraines, like someone’s grinding their brain to dust with a mortar and pestle. Light becomes unbearable, and every sound is like a scream. They leave the door shut and curtains drawn, and no one tries to talk to them. 

 

The door opens with a creak. Soft footsteps draw closer and a small hand brushes through their hair and down their back. It feels like a mother’s touch. 

 

“You’re dying, aren’t you?” Melody asks quietly, thoughtfully, rubbing Kurapika’s shoulder, “I can hear it in your heart.” 

 

They roll over and lift the damp cloth from over their eyes, squinting at her in the dim light. “You can hear that I’m lying to everyone.” Kurapika draws in a sigh and shivers on the exhale. 

 

Melody nods and her hand inches up their arm. It splays across their chest, holding their heart. “It’s inconsistent--sometimes panicked, and sometimes calm and resigned. But it’s mostly growing weaker.” 

 

Kurapika grimaces and tries to sit up. 

 

“You’re in pain,” she adds, her long teeth catching her lower lip. She draws her hand away. “But you’ve accepted it.” 

 

“I haven’t exactly been given a choice.” Kurapika leans back against the pillows with a soft groan. Crying will only make the migraine worse. “I don’t know how much time I have.” They tilt their head back and stare at the ceiling. There’s a spider nesting in the far left corner, and the gravity of the situation hits Kurapika when they realize that they don’t even have the strength to kill it. “And I don’t know what to do.” 

 

Another ripple of agony pulses somewhere behind their eyes and their teeth clench. 

 

“It’s my fault, you know,” Kurapika continues quietly through the pain, closing their eyes, “I chose to do this to myself, and now I can’t stop it.” They didn’t used to be afraid to die, but that was when they didn’t have anyone. Back then, they hoped to take down the troupe or die trying--or take down the troupe and die after. Now, every clock in the apartment ticked their name. 

 

_ Pik. Pik. Pik. Your time is running out.  _

 

Melody doesn’t try to soften her words, or offer a solution. They both know there isn’t one. 

 

“You did what you had to do,” she says finally, “We all do things that hurt us in the end to reach our goals, especially if that goal is revenge.” 

 

Kurapika killed the spider but dug an extra grave. 

 

“You should tell Leorio--soon, rather than later.”

 

Kurapika shakes their head. “He’ll just treat me like I’m made of glass, or drive himself insane trying to fix me.” 

 

Melody hums softly. “Maybe so, but he deserves to know.” She takes a step back from the bed. “And you should start thinking about how you want it to end.” 

 

Kurapika hasn’t considered what they want, because what they want is to not die--and that ship has kind of sailed. 

 

That night, Leorio sleeps on the couch so that his snoring wouldn’t bother Kurapika’s head. Lying alone in the dark, they think about how they want to die. It felt a little like planning an outfit--mentally slotting the details into place and rearranging the ones that don’t match. 

 

… 

 

A week passes, and things get worse. The headache spreads down their neck and into their joints. Each step makes them rattle, and everyone has begun to notice. It’s impossible to disguise this as a mere stomach bug now. 

 

One night, Kurapika finally allows Leorio to scan them. He’s been asking for days and growing antsy, so they cave and agree. Melody was right; he deserves to know, even though it will kill him. They’re not going to spontaneously drop dead without warning--it’s coming gradually, and it’s coming  _ fast _ . It’s inevitable. 

 

Leorio’s  _ nen _ travels over their body softly like an ocean breeze. They instantly grow calm and pliant under his touch, raspy breaths slowing as the tension ebbs away. It reduces the pain, for a while, until Leorio suddenly tears that touch away. 

 

He tears  _ himself _ away, shuffling towards the other end of the bed like a wounded animal. With an awful hacking sound, somewhere between a gag and a sob, Leorio begins to cry. His whole body shakes with it and it doesn’t  _ stop _ . He’s silent as he curls around himself, hands shielding his face. Like looking away from Kurapika will make it okay. 

 

“Leorio”--They groan as they lift themselves up and flop forward onto their hands and knees. Moving makes them dizzy, and it  _ hurts _ like someone’s tearing their muscles in half. Slowly, Kurapika crawls across the mattress and sets their hands on his. “Look at me,” they whisper. Their eyes grow hot and watery, and for the first time they find themselves actually crying about it. “ _ Please _ .” 

 

Leorio’s throat makes a dreadful clicking sound. He sucks in a raspy breath and the words struggle to get free. “I  _ can’t _ ...if I look at you, that makes it real, and I can’t”--Another sob ripples through him. “I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s real.” 

 

Kurapika gently pries Leorio’s hands from his face and kisses each palm. They’re both shaking. “If it’s real,” they murmur softly, setting his hands over their cheeks, “Then you’ll hold me. If it’s real, then you’ll kiss me and tell me that it’s okay.” Their face crumples as the tears start to fall freely. Leorio is nothing but a blur now, dimly silhouetted in the dark. “Please…” Kurapika’s voice falls out from beneath them. “Please, just hold me.”

 

Leorio falls forward against them, gathering them in his arms tightly. It hurts, but they don’t tell him so. His head tips onto their shoulder and he cries for what feels like hours. His hands clutch them desperately, like if he loosens his grip even slightly, they’ll slip like sand through his fist. Kurapika tries to memorize what he feels like, what he smells like. 

 

Dying will be fine. Dying will be a relief. But leaving Leorio behind? Never feeling his touch or smelling his hair? Never hearing him laugh? Never getting to kiss him? That’s what will hurt like a dagger to the heart. 

 

Leorio sniffles wetly. “What if I”-- 

 

“Shh…” Kurapika strokes his hair softly, kisses the top of his head. “There’s nothing that can be done. When the time comes, I need you to let me go.” 

 

“No--no, Kurapika, I…I  _ can’t _ .” 

 

“You will,” they promise, because this is what they want. They want to go softly, and painlessly, and they want him to hold them as they leave. And both of them know that Leorio can’t deny them anything they ask for. “I need you to.” 

 

Leorio grips Kurapika tighter. “Over my dead body,” he mutters as he buries his face into their neck. 

 

“No.” They sway him gently as their hand rubs a soothing circle into his back. “Over mine.” 

 

Leorio doesn’t let go of them for the rest of the night. He falls asleep just like this, wrapped around Kurapika’s body once he’s run out of tears. His arms are a vice grip and his lips brush against their neck. Kurapika wonders, before drifting off to sleep, if they’re going to die tonight. They could bear it--fading from the world with Leorio’s arms around them, not even aware of it. 

 

… 

 

They don’t die that night, or the next. 

 

By the third week, Kurapika can barely stand, so they try to avoid it. They stay in bed with a journal in hand, writing letter after letter for everyone they know. They’ve never been the best at telling people that they care, and they want to make sure that once they’re gone, nobody forgets it. They try to make them long, but their hand cramps up. They grow tired so quickly now. 

 

Killua climbs into their bed one afternoon and tells them that he knows. 

 

“You’ll take care of them, won’t you?” they ask, forcing a smile. Killua looks so much bigger now--maybe it’s because he’s grown, or maybe it’s because Kurapika is shrinking, whittling away into nothing. “And you have to let them take care of you too. I know that can be hard.” Their arm aches as they reach out to touch his shoulder. “Can you promise me that, Killua? Can you promise me that you’ll let yourself lean on them?” 

 

Killua shrugs and tries to be casual. “Sure.” He’s a tough kid, and Kurapika doesn’t think they’ve ever seen him cry. They’ve seen him shaken, rattled down to the core, but not crying. But he’s still just that: he’s still a  _ kid.  _ After a long pause, he sniffles. “I’ve seen lots of people die.” 

 

“I know,” Kurapika says. 

 

Killua takes their hand. “I’ve killed people,” he continues. 

 

“I know.” 

 

He squeezes their hand. “This is different.” 

 

“I know.” Kurapika squeezes back. 

 

… 

 

Gon is inconsolable. He lies in Kurapika’s lap, arms wrapped around their waist, and cries until he can’t speak. It’s terrible. This is the hardest thing Kurapika has ever had to do, and they tell him so as they run their fingers through his dark hair. 

 

“I’m not afraid,” Kurapika promises as they rub the tears from his cheek. 

 

Gon’s face crumples. “I am!” he cries, eyes wide and wet. His voice drops to a raspy whisper. “I’m really scared, Kurapika.” 

 

Their jaw hurts all the time now. They try to smile. “It’s okay to be scared, but I’ll be okay.” Tears begin to assault their eyes and they try to blink them away. It only squeezes them out. The words catch in their throat and they swallow it down. “I’m so proud of you,” they force out, shaking from head to toe, “And I’m so lucky that I’ve had the chance to see you grow up.” Dying will be easy. They keep telling themselves that. Dying will be easy, but saying goodbye will be so hard. They didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to their family the first time. 

 

They won’t make that mistake again. 

 

Gon is careful as he leans against Kurapika and wraps them into a hug. “I love you, Kurapika,” he chokes out as he hides his face in their neck. 

 

Their arms shake as they wrap around him. “I love you too, Gon.” 

 

… 

 

It hurts too much to take showers now, so Leorio carries them to the bathtub every night and washes them carefully. They hate the face he makes when he sees their bruised and bony body, but they don’t have the energy to cover themselves up. Their hair’s gotten too long now, cascading down their shoulders. It looks like straw--dull and yellow, and a little scratchy. Alluka spends hours sitting on the bed with them, brushing out their hair. 

 

She handles things the best. She cries, but she’s the only one who’s not afraid to ask questions. Asking Kurapika questions about death isn’t going to make them die any faster, and there’s things she wants to know. She brings them flowers and sets them by their bedside. She holds their notebook for them as they write their letters, and takes over for them when their hand cramps up. 

 

One afternoon, she comes by with a bouquet of lavender and slides them into the vase. 

 

“They’ll help you relax,” she explains as she pinches a few of the purple buds and rolls them between her fingers. She holds her hand to their face and they breathe in. “Do you feel any better?” 

 

It smells nice, but there’s not much that could help them feel better now.

 

“They’re very pretty,” they tell her honestly, “And they smell very good. Thank you, Alluka.” 

 

She sits down on the edge of the bed, and slowly scoots closer. 

 

“Are there flowers where you’re from?” 

 

“Hm, yes.” A slow smile graces Kurapika’s face. “There are lots of flowers. There are meadows that are filled with wildflowers, as far as the eye can see.” They buried their family in one of those meadows.  _ Sun in the sky, trees in the ground _ , they’d whispered as they’d laid a flower over each pair of eyes,  _ my body came from the ground, my spirit came from the sky.  _ They were born from the green, and to the green they would return. 

 

Alluka hums and leans over to grab the hairbrush from the bedside table. She takes Kurapika’s long hair in her hands and begins brushing it gently. “That sounds pretty. Is that where you want to die?” 

 

“What?” 

 

She continues to pull the brush down through their hair. “Maybe we could go there, when it’s time,” she offers, “And we can put you there in the meadow. I’ll put flowers in your hair, and you’ll be nice and comfortable, and we can all be there.” Alluka ties Kurapika’s hair into a bun, to keep it out of their face. “And then you can die.” 

 

_ When  _ it’s time. No one else has talked to Kurapika about  _ when _ . They either say  _ if  _ or ignore the topic altogether, like dancing around it will make it go away. And Kurapika hasn’t really let themselves think about when either. They’ve only been thinking about the after. 

 

Where do they want to be when they die? Do they really want to be in this dark room, in the same bed they’ve been lying in for the past month? This isn’t a way to live, and that isn’t a way to die.

 

Sometimes, Kurapika can hear Death tapping at the windows at night, and they can feel Her soft, cold touch on their face in the middle of the night. She’s growing impatient. She wants to come inside. She wants Kurapika, and She wants them desperately. Soon, she will wrap them in Her wings and carry them far away to the Land of the Ancestors. There, they will reunite with their people, and there, they will find peace. 

 

There, they will wait until their friends are old and happy. Then, Death will come to them too, and deliver each one into Kurapika’s waiting arms. 

 

… 

 

Leorio reluctantly agrees to take them to Lukso. 

 

“Are you sure you’re up to making that kind of journey?” he asks as he gently blots at Kurapika’s shoulder with a sudsy washcloth. He brushes their wet hair out of the way as he continues to wash their back. 

 

Kurapika sucks in a rattly breath. It even hurts to breathe now. Their ribcage aches and their lungs burn with every inhale, and every exhale leaves them feeling worn out. 

 

“I’m sure,” they whisper, shakily reaching for Leorio’s free hand, “I want it. I want...I want it to be like that.” They’re going to die, and they’re going to die soon. They have a week, maybe two if they’re lucky.

 

They get colder at night now. 

 

Leorio turns over Kurapika’s palm and kisses it. “Okay,” he murmurs, “We’ll get you there, whatever it takes.” He’s still resisting it, even now, even when it’s so clear that Kurapika is on their way out. They rub their thumb along his cheek to catch a few falling tears. 

 

They wonder if he’ll ever find peace. He has to, or else they’ll have to stay. 

 

And they can’t stay. 

 

“Thank you.” Kurapika can barely speak above a whisper these days, but they still try. “I love you. I don’t have that many more chances to say that, but I…” A pained sigh escapes their lungs. “I need you to know that.” 

 

Leorio nods and closes his eyes. Kurapika knows this trick. Sometimes Leorio leaves his eyes closed for a long time when they’re together, because the sight of them like this is too much to bear. Maybe he thinks that if he keeps his eyes closed long enough, Kurapika will be soft and healthy again when he opens them. 

 

He opens his eyes, and looks disappointed that nothing’s changed. 

 

“I love you too.” He leans forward carefully, stroking their forehead as he kisses them. They can’t be fun to kiss anymore, all thin and bony, with chapped lips and bleeding gums. But he does it anyway, and it’s nice. 

 

… 

 

Everyone comes with them--Leorio, Gon, Killua, and Alluka were shoe-ins, and Kurapika had hoped that Melody would agree to attend. Basho joins her, and his eyes look red-rimmed and rubbed raw when he comes to meet them at the airport. Zepile comes too, and doesn’t leave the kids’ sides. Kurapika is thankful that they’ll all be able to take care of each other once this is over. 

 

Leorio gives them a shot of something with a name they didn’t quite catch at the airport. 

 

“It’ll take away the pain,” he explains as the syringe sinks deep into their graying skin, “And it’ll help you sleep. I’ll give you a bigger dose when we get there.” 

 

Kurapika’s vision grows hazy. They crack a smile. “You’ve had that the whole time and didn’t think to give it to me sooner?” 

 

It’s not funny. 

 

They were never good at making jokes, and they don’t exactly have time to hone their comedy skills. 

 

Leorio smiles sadly and kisses their cheek. “It’s going to make things happen a little faster, sweetheart,” he murmurs, low and soft into their ear. No one else needs to hear. Ah. So it’s a last resort kind of drug. Leorio has finally given up on trying to extend their life, and instead wants to focus on making them comfortable. That’s good. That will make this easier. 

 

Kurapika falls asleep a little bit, and then all at once. 

 

They sleep the whole way to Lukso, and then some more on the ride to the village. They wake up only once, complaining under their breath about being cold. Leorio drapes his jacket over them, and they drift away again. 

 

It’s summertime, and the air is warm and humid. It was always their favorite season--it was a time for gardening, and for fishing, and for playing outside with their friends. They wonder if their friends will be pleased to see them. They wonder if their parents will be proud. 

 

Kurapika can barely see, but the meadow is just as beautiful as they remember. Flowers and clovers carpet the entire hill, and the river babbles below. Basho and Zepile lay a silk covered mattress underneath the cloudless sky, right next to the Kurta gaves. 

 

Kurapika has already explained the proper rituals to be performed they’re gone. The prayer has been written down and memorized, the candles and incense bought, the silk prepared. They know that they’re in good hands. 

 

Leorio folds them in his arms and carries them up the hill. He has to keep stopping and remembering how to use his legs. Kurapika knows that they can’t be very heavy; Leorio’s broken heart probably weighs more. They don’t rush him, or complain when the position starts to bother their neck. They simply rest their head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Melody was right. He really does have the kindest heart. 

 

He lies them down on the silk and helps them into their old blue tabard. Years have passed since they last wore it, and yet it’s looser on them now than it was before. He occasionally gives them sips of water from his canteen, and stops when moving hurts too much. 

 

Kurapika can’t sit up anymore, so Leorio and Gon support them as Alluka braids flower after flower into their hair. 

 

“You look very pretty,” she promises from behind them as she tucks another violet into the braid. 

 

Leorio hums softly and kisses their jaw. “Yeah. You look…” He shudders and the sudden movement hurts Kurapika’s bones. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” 

 

The candles are lit and the incense begins to burn. Everyone takes turns layering flowers around Kurapika’s bed. A lily here, a pansy there, until they’re completely surrounded. Each flower laid down takes a little bit of the tension away. Kurapika allows themselves to relax. They’re safe, and they’re loved. 

 

And they’re  _ home _ . 

 

Everyone they love is either sitting beside them or resting in the green below, waiting patiently for their return. 

 

After the flowers are placed, the eight of them rest. People tell stories and laugh, bringing Kurapika’s heart to bloom one last time before it has to stop. There’s no rush, they realize. They’re here. The journey is over. Now, they can simply enjoy the time. The medicine still flows through them, easing the pain. They can laugh too now. It doesn’t hurt. 

 

The sun sinks low before vanishing completely behind the hills. The constellations dance across the sky and a full moon rises in its place. 

 

It’s a blood moon. 

 

How fitting. 

 

“Leorio,” they whisper through chapped lips and chattering teeth, “I’m cold.” It starts in their hands and feet, and begins to crawl like frostbite up their limbs. 

 

Leorio leans down and presses a kiss to their forehead, covers them with a soft blanket, and goes to work rubbing the cold out of their hands. It hurts a little, but they let him do it. It makes them feel relaxed, and they know that Leorio needs this. 

 

He needs to take care of them. 

 

He needs to know that he did all he could. 

 

He needs to know that he did a  _ good job _ . 

 

Someone starts a fire to keep everybody warm, and Kurapika tries to memorize what everyone’s faces look like in the orange light. More stories are told and more laughter is shared. Leorio spoon feeds Kurapika some broth, just to give them a little bit of strength. It fills their stomach with warmth and calms their shaking hands a little. 

 

Later, when the fire is nothing but embers, Kurapika asks for the second shot. 

 

“What will happen when you give it to me?” they ask as Leorio cleans the inside of their wrist with a sterilized cotton ball, “Will it be like the last one?” 

 

Leorio pulls the cap off the syringe with his teeth and rubs their palm as the needle sinks in. “It happens gradually,” he replies softly, pressing down on the plunger with his thumb, “You’ll still be with it for a while, but you won’t be in pain. Then, you’ll go to sleep. After that...nothing.” 

 

Nothing. 

 

That sounds nice. 

 

Kurapika smiles and sighs as the liquid enters their bloodstream. They’re safe here. They can rest now. They’re with family. 

 

As the medicine slowly works its way through their bloodstream, they listen to more stories. They listen to the goodbyes. Gon kisses their forehead and tells them it’ll be okay. Everyone says they love them, over and over. They use the energy they have left to say it back. That love fills Kurapika up until they no longer feel cold or achy. 

 

Kurapika has loved them. They have loved everyone completely, and everyone has loved them the same. 

 

That is all. 

 

Nothing else matters. 

 

Kurapika’s limbs grow warm and heavy, and they struggle to keep their eyes open. 

 

“Leorio…?” 

 

His hand finds theirs, and he leans down close to hear them. “What is it?” 

 

It hurts to lift their head, but Kurapika does it anyway so they can kiss him. This will probably be the last time. They’ve lost feeling in their arms and legs, and it’s becoming harder and harder to stay awake. 

 

“I’m tired.” 

 

Someone sobs. Kurapika isn’t sure who. It could be them, for all they know. 

 

Leorio’s face scrunches, pained, against theirs. His hands find their cheeks and he cradles them carefully as he gives them kiss after kiss. “It’s okay,” he whispers between kisses. He’s not ready to let go. That’s okay. He’ll be fine. “Go to sleep, honey.” 

 

Kurapika hums and starts to lie back down again, breathing steady and faint. Leorio lies down next to them on the grass and takes their hand. 

 

Gon hovers over them. “I’m going to take your other hand now, okay?” He asks shakily, sniffling when Kurapika nods. Killua and Alluka appear behind them. He touches their arm, and she carefully strokes their hair.

 

Zepile sits down cross-legged nearby and reaches over the kids to pat Kurapika’s chest. “You did good,” he tells them. He’s been silent for most of the trip, laughing at stories and holding the kids when they cry. “You did real good.” 

 

Basho and Melody kneel at the foot of the bed. Basho wipes his eyes again. 

 

Flute in hand, Melody leans over to touch Kurapika’s knee. “May I play you to sleep?” she asks softly. They blink in response, too tired to nod. She seems to understand and lifts the flute to her lips. 

 

The song she plays is soft and slow. Each note drifts seamlessly into the next. It’s not a song of mourning--it’s a lullaby, and the tune is familiar...Too familiar. With a shudder of their chest, and tears in their eyes, Kurapika realizes that it’s a song from  _ home _ . Their voice doesn’t come out when they speak, but they breathe the syllables in her direction. 

 

_ Thank you.  _

 

She smiles as the plays. 

 

“I wrote you something.” Basho wipes his nose with the back of his hand as he flips through his notebook. “I tried to write one about…” He clears his throat. “About givin’ you more time, but I knew it was no use.” His wet eyes overflow with tears that slide down his face in the dark. “Can I read it?” 

 

Kurapika settles back against their pillow. They tighten their hands around Leorio’s and Gon’s, and softly nod their head. The flowers smell sweet beside them, and their friends’ touches are warm. The stars stretch out across the sky, bathing them in the scarlet light of the blood moon. Yes. Yes, it’s time now. 

 

It’s time to go. 

 

Leorio rubs Kurapika’s cheek with his free hand as Basho begins to read. They want to keep their eyes open, just to stare at Leorio for just a little longer, but they’re so tired. 

 

So, so tired. 

 

The poem rides over Melody’s song, each word bringing Kurapika more peace, bringing them closer to rest. 

 

_ “Peace under the stars. Circled by adoring friends, the emperor sleeps.”  _

 

Yes, that was good. 

 

Kurapika’s eyes close as the flapping of Death’s wings fill his ears. They’re ready for Her now. She can come. She can take them. 

 

And that is all. 

 

… 

 

It only takes a few minutes for Kurapika to die. Leorio keeps his fingers on their pulse as it grows threadier and weaker. He watches their chest rise and fall peacefully with bated breath. Gon is shaking across from him, face scrunched up and nose dripping. Leorio reaches across Kurapika’s body to rub the tears from his cheek. 

 

Melody keeps playing. 

 

She doesn’t stop, not even when Kurapika’s chest stops moving. 

 

Not even when the hum of their pulse slows to a peaceful stop. 

 

Leorio sits and holds their hand until it grows cold. 

 

There isn’t a rush to say goodbye. Kurapika is already gone, flying away to somewhere peaceful. Flying home. This period of mourning is for everyone else, so they take their time. They kiss Kurapika’s face, and hold their hands, and stroke their hair. Everyone puts their arms around each other and they  _ grieve _ . 

 

Leorio promised Kurapika that he’d be okay, just so soothe their mind, but he knows he won’t. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be okay again. He cradles Kurapika’s tiny body in his arms and waits until people give him some time alone with them to sob. He cradles their face and kisses their cold lips until it becomes gross, and then kisses them some more. 

 

They bury Kurapika at sunrise. They wrap their body in the silk sheet and tie it up with woven, colorful rope. The Kurta don’t use caskets; their bodies go right into the Earth, and feed the flowers around it. Gon and Killua insist on digging the grave, and refuse to stop until they’re done, not even when their hands blister. 

 

Leorio lowers Kurapika down himself, with some help from Zepile and Basho. He straightens their body out, makes sure they’re nice and comfortable. He grips the silk in his fists. He can’t let go, he doesn’t  _ want  _ to let go. 

 

If he lets go, they’ll be gone. 

 

“It’s okay.” Zepile gently grabs his arm rubs it gently. “They’re okay now. You can let go, it’s  _ okay _ .” 

 

Leorio lets go and is immediately overcome with a guilt so strong that it makes him want to scream. He tries to reach for Kurapika again, to pull them back up out of the ground and into his arms, but he knows it’s no use. Instead, he finds himself wrapped up in Zepile’s arms, sobbing into his shoulder. 

 

Gon runs to his side and throws his arms around him, and Killua and Alluka follow. 

 

He can’t watch as Basho covers the grave with dirt. Once he does, it just looks like a grave. Nothing extraordinary, nothing scary. Just a grave. Just a mound of earth. That’s okay. 

 

Kurapika taught him the prayer, and he recites it with a shaky tongue as he kneels down and places a stone at the head of the mound. “Sun in the sky, trees in the ground.” He then sets a handful of wildflowers over the stone. “My body came from the ground, my spirit came from the sky. My”--The words stop, like someone’s built a wall around his throat. “My”--All that comes out is a sob. 

 

Gon kneels down next to him, leaning his face against Leorio’s shoulder. “My limbs are filled with sunlight.” His voice is bright and clear, but heavy and sad. “And with the pale light of the moon.” Gon lifts his arm, and Killua kneels down next to him and huddles underneath it, continuing the prayer. 

 

“My body belongs to the green.” Killua’s voice shakes, and for the first time, Leorio can hear him crying. “I entrust it to the wind that passes through this land.” 

 

It’s Alluka who finishes the prayer. 

 

Her voice is soft and quiet as she rests her head on Killua’s shoulder. “I thank you for the miracle of being here.” 

 

It really was a miracle, wasn’t it? It was a miracle that Kurapika was born at the right time, and that they roared into Leorio’s life like an oncoming train. It was a miracle that everyone passed the exam, that they found Killua and brought him to a real home. 

 

Falling in love was a miracle. It wasn’t always good, but it was always miraculous. 

 

Leorio doesn’t know how long he sits there in front of the grave. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep. He just sits, in total silence. He doesn’t ever want to leave this place, but he has things he has to do, people he has to save. Even if he couldn’t save the person closest to him. When he’d cast his  _ nen  _ over Kurapika and felt Death’s cold grip on their arm, he knew that it was over. He knew that there was nothing he could do, and it made him sick. He’s going to make them proud, and he’s going to get old and grouchy just like they wanted.

 

And then, when he’s ready, he’s going to be buried right here. He already asked for permission. 

 

_ “You want to be buried with my people?”  _

 

_ “Is that too much? I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, I just...I wanna be close to you.”   _

 

_ “Then you may be buried next to me, but only if you promise me that you’ll wait until you’ve had a long life.”  _

 

Right now, Leorio feels a thousand years old.

 

He stands up and gives the grave one last look. He tries to smile. “Catch ya later, sweetheart,” he promises.

 

He turns and walks away. 

 

And that is all. 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry :(


End file.
